


20 Hours in Lebanon

by wigglebox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Fight Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Spoilers, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox/pseuds/wigglebox
Summary: Sure,I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallowglass, but that comes later.And the part where I push youflush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,shut upI’m getting to it.-Richard Siken





	20 Hours in Lebanon

**I**t lasted about a month. 

**L**ong days stretched into equally long nights. Five hours of sleep were treasured and a hot meal was not taken for granted. They barely had time to rest in those weeks with one conflict falling into another conflict like a never-ending marathon. It was a lot for only three people. The stress only added to the pressure between Dean and Cas. 

**O**ne week into their new reality of constant battle and Cas wanted to say something. He wanted to scream and shout until someone listened to him instead of sitting there, catching side glares and eye rolls from Dean every time he thought about talking or doing something. Dean wanted to scream and shout too, but the conditions didn’t permit it. They didn’t know when it would, so the words kept building. 

**V**acating the bunker for those few weeks was another stress on them. It was a decision made the first night after they managed to somehow steamroll themselves out of the graveyard and into the car. The decision that night came in the form of several cases of beer and the lack of sleep, fearing something would find them there in the night and then it was game over, pal. So they left, locking everything down. Dean didn’t have a bed in nearly a month. For a few days, he was forced to sleep on a mat in a gymnasium at a high school. Cas heard him shifting throughout the night, frustrated groans joining the shuffles. 

**E**verything was coming to a boiling point. Cas could feel it with every passing day. The argument played out in his head with what he wanted to say and how he wanted to defend himself and Jack, preparing his remarks for when the tension snapped m. He didn’t want to have to do it, but it was clear the anger was following Dean around. Cas was angry too. 

-

**Y**elling wasn’t going to help, but that didn’t stop Cas and Dean in the end. 

**O**ver four weeks went by before the conclusion came about that they’d have to return to the bunker, at least for a night. They needed to restore some essentials, grab additional weapons if they were going to continue hopping around from town to town, trying to fix what was undone by God. None of them had a clear idea of what had to be done other than fight. 

**U**ndoing everything that had been ruptured, on all fronts, seemed impossible.

-

**D**ean went straight for the kitchen after they dropped off the bags, not saying a word. Cas felt the tension tightening around him as they all followed him inside. It wasn’t the first time that he had felt unwanted, and knew he was unwanted. 

**E**ven Sam at that point was unwanted. 

-

**S**ilence stretched like a rubber band, waiting to snap. Dean remained at the table, nursing his third bottle of beer, shoulders sinking with each sip. They remained in silence for a while, Cas unsure for how long. The clock ticked like a time bomb. 

**P**atience was winning over Cas who stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed while staring at the ground. Everything that had threatened to boil over in the past few weeks was biding its time, creating a false sense of calm. Cas once again rolled through the words in his head, practicing.

_**I **should say something_

_**T**ell him what needs to be said_. 

**E**verything hurt. Every goddamn thing hurt right at that moment as the rubber band finally snapped. 

“**W**hat do you want?” Dean beat Cas to speaking first. He lowered the last of the bottle onto the table with a solid _thunk_ and rested his head on his free hand. 

“**H**elp in understanding why you get to be the one who’s angry, and I have to sit here and take it,” Cas answered, “You’re not the only one with something to say.”

“**A**t this point,” Dean pushed the bottle away from him and stood up, “If you think I give a shit about what you have then you’re even more off the mark than I thought.”

**T**hat set it all off. 

“**I** could have been civil about all this but you’ve had your head so far up your own ass, you _still_ refuse to listen to anyone else!” Cas got his first line out just how he wanted and at the perfect level of not-too-loud but loud enough. 

“**S**ave it for someone who cares,” Dean spat, finally turning to look at Cas. The circles under his eyes were more pronounced with the kitchen lighting and he looked paler than normal. Under normal circumstances, Cas would be concerned. “I did listen to you, and --”

“**A**nd? And what?,” Cas pushed himself off the counter now, “How do you plan on twisting this to again paint me as the bad guy, and you as the all-wise, all-knowing --”

“**Y**ou know that’s a reach so don’t even -- ”

“**I **know what happened to Mary wasn’t --”

“**W**ill you shut up!” The words rang harsh and loud through the small space, cutting the space between them like a hot knife. Anger sank into every feature of Dean’s face, “You don’t get to dictate the conversation about this, or about her. Don’t talk to me like you _know_, like you _care_ because you clearly _don’t_ \--” 

“**I** won’t _shut up_,” Cas took a step forward, “You don’t get to steamroll me in every conversation where you _think_ you’re right.”

**L**ifting his hands as a mock invitation, Dean sneered, “Fine. Talk. Explain to me what I’m failing to understand because what you can’t explain away is the fact that _kid_,” Dean pointed to the doorway to the hall, “killed my mother. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg” 

“**L**et me ask this question then,” Cas snapped, “If it wasn’t your mother, would you even care?” 

**A** heavy silence filled the small room, and Cas could clearly see the color drain from Dean’s face. He pressed on, taking the opening. 

“**L**et me ask another question while you think that one over. How many people have _you _killed? How many savable vessels did you kill? Possessed bodies? How many mothers did you stab or shoot? Fathers, children -- how many innocent people died on your hands?”

**W**hile Cas hammered the questions into Dean, he started to feel the stab of guilt knowing it was a low blow. He didn’t want to drive them down this road that led to all the skeletons in the closet, but Cas didn’t know how else to get his point across. 

“**A**nd while we’re here talking about it,” Cas narrowed his eyes, sick with himself for bringing this up, “Weren’t you the one who shot an innocent teenager point-blank in the head?” 

“**Y**ou know what --” Dean started, but Cas wasn’t finished.

“**S**ay you were under the mark’s influence. Go ahead. Go ahead and use that as an excuse because then I’ll ask my final question because I’m just as guilty as you. So is Sam. I guess we all weren’t ourselves when innocents got involved, huh?”

_**L**ook away_, _look away now_. Cas finished and the silence came roaring back, ears ringing with the sudden lack of noise. He had to break eye contact with Dean who by now was as pale as a ghost, face contorted with unbridled rage, eyes burning with resentment.

“**O**ut of all that, where do you hold yourself accountable?” Dean eventually asked, voice low but wavering, hinting at just how much he was holding back. 

**V**ictory faded, pride faded fast as Cas closed his eyes, waiting for it -- 

“**E**verything you said was true,” Dean’s voice a little louder now, “But there’s something a little different this time, and by different I mean this happens all the time but --”

“**Y**ou gonna get to the point?” 

**O**f course, Dean didn’t need too. Cas knew what was coming.

**U**nderneath the resolve he formed over the past month, Cas never forgot that, yes, he did have a part to play in this. He knew something was wrong, but chose to honor a dying woman’s wish than to sound the alarm. That had consequences. In a way, he didn’t only fail Dean and Sam but he failed Jack too by not correcting what needed to be corrected. Not by harsh punishment like Dean wanted, but just --

_What? What would you have done?_

“You lied.”

He did lie, in a sense. By omitting information —

“I did lie,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t make it okay for you to lock the equivalent of a child in a box or shoot him dead!”

“_All_ of that could have been avoided!” The volume increased again. Cas vaguely wondered if Sam could hear them. Probably. “If you had just said ‘Hey guys, Jack’s being weird and I think we need to be concerned, maybe we should do something’, _all_ of that could have been avoided.”

“Could it have though? You have a pretty reliable habit of letting your” _fear “_anger run the show.”

“What the fuck is that --” 

“‘You’re dead to me’? ‘Get on board or walk away’? ‘I know you don’t like it, and I don’t really care’? And those aren’t the only ones,” Cas challenged, “I admit I was wrong about not telling you what was going on with Jack but you need to admit that there was a good reason why I didn’t _want_ to tell you.”

Silence again and in the pause, Cas relished at the selfish feeling of accomplishment that he was able to get what he wanted out of him after holding it in for so long. 

“You never took the time to talk to him,” Cas continued, taking advantage of Dean’s silence, “You didn’t hear what he told me before you came in, guns blazing -- which by the way, you’re conveniently ignoring the bigger picture of God --”

“Don’t --” Dean waved a hand, shaking his head, “Don’t use him as a crutch for your problems. He’s dipped into some things and ignored others but you still chose time and time again to leave, hide information, and make things worse. You think it’s just this time? This is just the latest one. Pick a year!”

It was one-to-one now in the score of pain and Cas stupidly hadn’t thought this argument would drive off of the Jack and Mary road. 

“Anything to say?”

Cas had a lot to say if they were going to take the argument off the tracks -- but he didn’t know how, or if he wanted, to say it. They were his mistakes, and his mistakes had led to dire consequences. It was something he accepted over the years and has tried to mitigate, finding it hard in some cases. He’s withheld information many times, went off on his own many times because he didn’t want to burden Sam and Dean with his own misery and penance. He didn’t know how to adequately voice what he was scared of, wanted, and needed sometimes and that had fatal consequences more than once. 

But he didn’t know how to say that. 

Cas turned away and braced himself against the counter, trying to get his thoughts back on track after the successful run only a few minutes prior. Dean now had his shot. 

“No, you don’t have anything to say because you know that I’ve been cleaning up after you for years.”

Another blow. Two-to-one. 

“I’ve apologized --”

“And it keeps on happening,” It was Dean’s turn to talk without interruptions, “Why can’t you ever just _stay_? Stay, talk to us, tell us what’s going on! What if something worse had happened? What if instead of mom, it was _both _of you that got the ax?” Dean’s voice was wavering again, “I was the one that had to watch you burn up on that pyre. Do you know what it’s like to burn someone you love?”

There’s that word again -- like a brother, like always --

“Every time you’ve been gone it’s just another punch to the gut and I don’t know how many more of those I can take --” Dean continued. Cas let him. They were very much off the path of Jack and Mary now but — “Knowing almost every time could have been avoided if you just talked to us, to me,” His voice cracked, hoarse and filled with emotion that Cas didn’t want to get in the way of. The train was beginning to derail — “I was there every single time, and I never go to say goodbye or I love you --“

_There _was the crash. The train skidded fully off the tracks and hit the side of a mountain and Cas could only stand there and watch the avalanche of realization cascade over Dean’s face. 

Cas himself stayed neutral as he could but he knew his eyes were wide with shock. It was the only thing he could do at that moment because words were failing him. There was a dull ringing in his ears like a bell was going off but he wasn’t sure what it signaled. A warning; celebration; invasion — 

Before Cas could begin to make heads or tails of Dean’s words, the man turned and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming a fist into the wall as he did. 

-

Cas stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours but in reality, it was only about twenty minutes. A waterfall of thoughts prevented him from moving, and all the exhaustion he faced in the past month decided to crash down on him at once. 

_I never got to say goodbye or I love you_

Whatever thought tried to pop into his mind was overpowered instantly by_ I love you, I love you_ \-- 

He didn’t expect it to happen like this if it was going to happen at all, and on most days, Cas excepted it to stay locked away. On the worst days, he’d allow himself to steal away into his own mind and dip into the small daydreams he had. It was rare, usually if he was really alone, but he had imagined what it may have been like had his personal feelings been matched. Maybe if it was a different time; maybe if he wasn’t an angel; maybe if they met under different circumstances -- 

Never once did he assume those delicate words would be spoken out loud. There were glimmers of hope sporadically thrown at him over the years but never did Cas get the go-ahead to move forward. To talk to Dean about it caused him enough panic and fear to keep everything locked down tight. 

He didn’t expect it to all come out like this. 

But he couldn’t stay in that kitchen. There was a time frame he had to act on and if he missed his window, the train would forever leave the station. 

He had to play it right, and it was hard to do that when you hardly knew any of the rules. 

Almost in a trance, Cas discarded his coat and the blazer underneath tossed them onto the table and left the kitchen as well. 

-

There was no answer when Cas knocked on Dean’s door. He tried again. Still nothing. 

The light was on, Dean was awake, so Cas tried the door handle. It was unlocked. 

Cas closed his eyes to capture the final moment before things irreversibly changed. Turning the knob, he held his breath and walked into the room. 

-

They stood opposite each other, Cas leaning against the wall by the door. Dean by his bed. No words were thrown, only unbroken eye contact. They were in a different place now. Dean seemed to be breathing heavier, and Cas could tell even from the distance that his eyes were a little red.

Cas looked away first, unable to stand the loaded silence. 

“Did you mean it?” was all Cas could come up with as he stared at the ground. It was a stupid question. Why else would Dean have said what he said -- ff he didn’t mean it, he would have yelled something else during their exchange, the heat of the moment loosening his tongue. 

But Cas wanted to hear the confirmation anyway. 

The silence grew so large, a pin that dropped would sound like thunder. 

“Yes,” the whisper was as loud as their shouting.

\- 

That ‘yes’ launched them into action, moving fast.

They never made it to the bed and were still half-dressed at the end of it all but there was no time to slow down. If they did slow their pace at any point, the thoughts that had been haunting them for over a month, the unfinished argument, would come back and destroy what little they had. 

The first bit that Cas remembered was that he took off the tie as Dean crossed the room, undoing his belt. It was a mutual motion that signaled they were off to the races. No time to think. 

Dean met Cas by the door, pushing him into the wall behind him with raw emotion and energy guiding their mouths. They forgot to lock the door, but who cared at that point, the blood was boiling and synapses were rocking. Everything was rocking. Cas formed a distinct thought in the chaos that despite all the other times he experienced this, none of them stacked up to now. He had been cheated those times. They were nothing but hollow imitations that brought him nothing. Now, every movement against each other, every slide of lips and every tilted hip brought him a surge of confidence that was on a whole new level. It was rushed -- everything was rushed. But it was okay because they’d have more time in the future. They’d go slow next time. No time to think now. 

At some point, Dean broke away, leaving behind disappointment and a strange undercurrent of annoyance. Cas was also bewildered in finding that while his clothing remained, everything that was buttoned and zippered into place was undone and freed. Dean also had the same appearance, and Cas couldn’t remember whose handy work it was.

Another small gap in memory and Cas only remembered being handed a small bottle of something and his mouth covered again, hot and urgent. It was going to be rough, Dean said, but it was okay. 

They never left the wall. The wall was their anchor and Dean had turned around to cling to it as Cas found himself clinging to bare hips in front of his own, one of the only places his hands could find bare skin. Pants were somewhere near them, or maybe still on them, Cas couldn’t remember and it wasn’t like it mattered. His mind was following a single line of thought at that point with the goal clearly in mind. 

The only time that night they slowed down was when Dean angled himself in a welcoming gesture for Cas to take whatever he wanted. Cas could have gone faster as he sunk in, hipbones inched closer and closer, skin on skin, every wire in his brain screaming to _take take take_ \-- but the noises from Dean were too good to let go fast. Breathing hard, small hitches of breath in and out, and a noise of slight discomfort so soft that if Cas hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have heard it over the rushing river of adrenaline in his ears. 

Ideally, if it were any other time, they’d pause and savor the moment of finally uniting, no longer hiding in the shadows -- but it wasn't about that now. It wasn’t about savoring it was about taking; it wasn’t about feeling, it was about action; it wasn’t emotional, just raw emotions needing to get out and get out now. No time to think, no time to breathe, just move and take; in and out; pushing Dean slightly more up against the wall; Cas removing hands from hips and instead, using them to cover the ones already pressed against the paint. 

It was far from what Cas daydreamed in the dead of night on his own, but in a way, it was far better. He didn’t have to think and talk, only move. No words were needed, no need to sort things out in his head -- just in and out, fishing for noises he never thought Dean could make. Cas didn’t know if the shots of pleasure and gluttony were amplified by what little grace he had left or if being human would always feel like this, but whatever the case, it was pushing him into overdrive. It felt too good, _way_ too good to ever think this would stop. _Let’s just go forever_ his brain fired off out of nowhere, delusional. 

For weeks, Cas wanted Dean to talk to him, but now, the man’s inability to speak, the desperate gasps for air and choke off loud moans coming from deep within him, was almost like a powertrip. Fuck arguing, who cared if questions got answered, who cares if they ever figured the bad shit out -- Cas had Dean pinned to a wall and could _take take take_, his mind continuing to echo the words. Cas wanted to go faster, but reason and caution held him back.

Until:

“Harder,” Dean managed to choke out, “Harder -- make me feel it tomorrow.”

Cas fell into another small blackout.

Coming back to the present, he found himself digging his fingers into Dean’s hips once more, pulling him back out from the wall as much as possible while still giving the man a chance to hold onto _something_. Someone’s legs were trembling. Cas was going faster, harder, all the while thinking that this was how it was meant to be all along; how many years did they waste because no one knew how to _talk _when this could have been happening _\--_

The wave that was building was about to crash over the edge. It wasn’t too familiar an edge, but one he had seen before, reluctantly. This time, Cas felt like he had sprinted there, eager, willing to jump off as soon as possible to see the ending. Everything was new and raw and despite being still mostly dressed, exposed in more ways than one. 

A moment of clarity washed over Cas which kicked him over the cliff -- seeing Dean in his current vulnerable position, willingly, with his plea moments ago echoing in Cas’s head. It was real -- it was happening. It was real, happening, and very much something that would happen again if they could get their shit together and --

Cas felt the final shove and suddenly felt like there was no ground beneath him. He snapped his hips as close as he could get them, pressed up against Dean as must as he could as that wave crashed, taking him over the edge. There was a shout, a low whine from someone but Cas couldn’t tell who. They were too wrapped together. Every thought was suddenly banished from his mind and all that mattered was where he was and who he was embracing. Dean tensed against Cas, causing more pulses of satisfaction. Cas felt a small shudder, the hips in front of his moving only slightly with what little room they had. 

Time again stretched out between them as they stood, too afraid to move, too afraid to shatter what they just built. In the ringing silence that surrounded them, Cas tilted his head against the crook of Dean’s neck, his mouth finding some skin to rest against. In the quiet, he trusted himself enough to let the words travel on his next exhale: I love you too.

-

Darkness filled the room save for the small plug-in by the door to guide those who needed a midnight bathroom break. Things were still and quiet, a calm after the storm. 

“I’m still mad at you,” a whisper came out of the dark, small and barely there, “And I still have things to say.”

A pause.

“I’m still mad at you, too,” another voice murmured, just as quiet, just as soft, “And I also still have things to say.” 

They both still needed questions resolved, residual anger to be released, fingers to point and names to yell but for now, they allowed the heavy blanket of sleep to drape over them, bringing peace along with it. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?” the first whisper asked, voice laced with sleep. 

Cas nodded, not feeling like talking anymore. 

-

Sam assumed Cas left, but that still didn’t stop him from checking rooms. 

The shouting got loud and Sam did everything he could to drown it out, uncomfortable and wishing he could just _leave_. But, the argument ended abruptly, and Sam wondered if the pair in the kitchen got the hint to keep their voices down, or if Dean ordered Cas out; don’t come back; this isn’t your home; we don’t want you here.

Sam was admittedly still sore about their mom, Jack, and everything in between, but not as much as Dean, so he stayed out of it. There were deeper issues that didn’t involve him, and ones he, quite frankly, didn’t care to unlock. 

The library was a bust, so was the “cave”, the infirmary, the gym, the garage, several bedrooms --

Sam finally got to Dean’s door, hesitant to poke the bear but wanting to make sure at least Cas didn’t leave with a black eye or anything. Or to see if Dean had one himself.

The handle was unlocked as Sam turned it, opening the door slow and easy to avoid a creek. No knocking. He should have knocked but he didn’t because Dean’s door was unlocked and when it was unlocked that meant hey, everything just may be okay --

The room was still dark, the hallway light casting a small polygon of light into the room, looking out of place. 

“Dean?” Sam stuck his head through the doorway, knowing better than to enter all the way just in case Dean decided to throw something in objection to being woken up, “Dean are you awake?” He kept his voice low. 

Movement under the sheets. 

“I can’t find Cas. Did he leave last night?” Sam asked. 

The mass under the covers suddenly broke into two, and one half sat up, the blankets pooling in his lap, clothing discarded. Cas’s eyes were barely opened as he struggled to steady himself, and he looked confused.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sounding equal parts concerned and annoyed.

Sam blinked a few times, wondering if the weird lighting was messing with his brain. This was an outcome he didn’t expect.

“I was just --” Sam started before he saw Dean’s hand creep up from under the sheets and press into Cas’s chest, trying to get him to go back down against the pillows. Sam watched, fascinated as Cas ignored Sam all together and obeyed the hand’s command, sinking back into the mattress, apparently done with his brief conversation. 

Privacy was needed, and Sam reached in and locked the door from the inside before shutting it all the way. It didn’t need to be locked anymore, but Sam felt like it was the right thing to do anyway. 

He felt awkward as he went back to his room to get ready for the day, but he couldn’t help the small flicker hope and happiness, that everything just may be alright in the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This was inspired by an angst spoiler for season 15 and was completely self-indulgent.
> 
> It's hard to get these two to communicate even when I'm calling the shots and it's not for a show -- no wonder it's hard for the writers to get them to sit the hell down and talk to each other. They're under time limits too! 
> 
> The last scene with Sam is something I had in my head for a while, but never had a fic to stick it in. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! A big thank you to @tennyo for looking this over for me!
> 
> The photo credit is by Rich/isnapshot on Flicker, titled "HWY 109"
> 
> \- Jen | Wigglebox


End file.
